


The Biscuits May Look Terrible But At Least We're Satisfied

by eragon19



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Jealous Sherlock, John loves Sherlock's voice, M/M, Voice Kink, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:35:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eragon19/pseuds/eragon19
Summary: The whole baking craze had started two days ago when Sherlock had casually mentioned that he hadn’t eaten his mother’s famous homemade Christmas cookies in years. Ordinarily such a comment wouldn’t have stuck with John, he knew Sherlock wasn’t close to his parents, but the touch of wistfulness in Sherlock’s voice had John calling Mrs. Holmes as soon as Sherlock was in the shower.An attempt at a Christmas surprise and a flirtatious client all lead to some loving Christmas smut.





	The Biscuits May Look Terrible But At Least We're Satisfied

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Sandra for all the HIM concert goodies, and for Claudia who wanted some food related smut. Thank you to my wonderful beta for all her help!

John scowled down at the tray of cookies on the freshly cleaned kitchen island. For once in John’s long history at 221b the kitchen doors were shut, separating Sherlock and his latest client from John and his secret project. 

At least he hoped it was secret…with Sherlock that was nearly impossible, though John had picked up a few tricks, especially after they’d started dating.    


He knew he’d tipped Sherlock off when he’d declined to partake in his latest client meeting, but by the time the meeting was over John would be done. 

He hoped.    


Licking his lips, John adjusted his grip on the piping bag and tried to pipe an even line around the border of a gingerbread man. This time he managed to get it right…well at least a little better than the last four attempts. His gaze turned forlornly to the other attempts lying pitifully on a chipped white plate. The frosting hadn’t been the right consistency and had leaked off the sides of the cookie, turning John’s cheerful gingerbread men into weird gingerbread blurs. Thanks to extra icing sugar and lots of mixing, the frosting was finally thick enough. Though the nervousness of wasting so much time had brought back John’s tremor, making the decorating an absolute bitch. 

  
He sighed and flexed his fingers around the bag, getting back to work. The whole baking craze had started two days ago when Sherlock had casually mentioned that he hadn’t eaten his mother’s famous homemade Christmas cookies in years. Ordinarily such a comment wouldn’t have stuck with John, he knew Sherlock wasn’t close to his parents, but the touch of wistfulness in Sherlock’s voice had John calling Mrs. Holmes as soon as Sherlock was in the shower.

  
She’s been amused and vaguely condescending, the way she always was, but she was helpful. She’d even offered to bake the cookies herself and send up to John. John had politely declined, it was fresh cookies for his boyfriend or nothing. After swearing he’d take it to his grave, John had finally gotten the recipe. 

  
Now here he was, making a mess of it all. The cookies tasted fine, but the bloody decorating was going to ruin everything. Thank god Sherlock’s latest client was a talker, otherwise John would have been screwed. 

  
Furrowing his brow, John plowed on, and on, and on…   
  
He’d finished three passable gingerbread men and two Christmas trees, when the kitchen door creaked open. John looked up, mouth open to order Sherlock out. He was nearly done damn it! He promptly shut it when he saw not Sherlock, but their client standing at the door, watching John with amusement. Over the man’s shoulder, John could see Sherlock clicking away on his laptop, oblivious the client had wandered off. 

  
“Oh hello,” John said, shifting his feet awkwardly, as the client shut the door behind him.   
  


It was his and Sherlock’s unspoken rule that clients were restricted to the living room. So far none had been rude enough to wander off on their own.

  
“He’s researching and I got bored,” the man said, pushing a lock of blond hair out of his face and nodding toward the living room. 

  
“Ah I see,” John said. “I think it’s best if you- fuck!”

  
John swore as a blob of frosting dripped out of the piping bag and onto the cookie below. That one had actually been coming out alright! 

  
He sighed in frustration and swabbed the back of his hand over his face, wishing the client would leave him to it. 

  
“Having a bit of trouble?” the client’s voice was laced with amusement as he stepped up to the island next to John.

  
“Yes well,” John began, planning to tell him to get out as politely as possible.

  
A hand on his face brought that thought to a screeching halt. 

  
“You have some frosting right…there,” the client said, dragging a thumb along John’s cheek.

 

John’s eyes widened as the man popped his thumb into his mouth, his eyes locked on John as he licked the frosting off.

  
“Sweet,” the man muttered, licking his lips obviously. 

  
John swallowed, at a loss as to what to do.    
  


“Let me help,” he said, ignoring John’s stunned expression.    
  


Before John could protest, the man stepped up behind him and placed his hand over John’s on the piping bag.    
  


“It’s all in the pressure, you see,” the still nameless client said, his chest brushing John’s with each word. “You have to hold it firmly, but don’t squeeze to hard.”

  
John flinched at the damp brush of the client’s lips against his ear. He was at loss, usually the client’s hit on Sherlock, not him. He was just about to shove the man away and demand he leave, when the kitchen door banged open, revealing one livid Sherlock Holmes. 

  
Sherlock took in the scene before him, his eyes flicking over the way the client was pressed against John’s back, their hands joined over the piping bag.

  
His eyes locked onto the client, his gaze dangerous.

  
“Get. Out.”   
  


Sherlock’s voice was frightening enough that the client immediately stepped back, and John let out a breath of relief. Sherlock’s jaw clenched at the noise.

 

The client scurried towards the door, stopping short as Sherlock blocked his way. He gulped as Sherlock stared him down, before taking a tiny step to the right, allowing the client to edge passed him and out the flat. They heard the flat door slam, racing footsteps down the stair and the loud crash of the front door. 

  
John exhaled.   
  


“Sherlock I-   
  


“I know John,” Sherlock said walking over to him, “He was flirting with you. He had his sights set on you from the moment you said hello.”   
  


“Really?”    
  


Sherlock nodded, eyes still blazing.   
  


“And you know I didn’t and wouldn’t reciprocate, right?” John asked carefully, trying not to let the incredulity leak into his voice.   
  


“Of course, John,” Sherlock scoffed, his eyes softening somewhat. “As if  _ he _ can compete with  _ me _ .”   
  


Sherlock smirked at him and John laughed.   
  


“No contest, love. God, what an arse,” John said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.    
  


He looked at Sherlock, expecting him to laugh. Instead, he found the man’s eyes looked into his face, his eyes back to blazing.

  
“He touched you,” Sherlock said, his voice low as he stepped closer “Your face, he touched your face.”

  
“Yes, he did. Like I said, he’s an arse,” John said, bringing his hands up to Sherlock’s chest. He stopped before his hands made contact. It wouldn’t do to get frosting on Sherlock’s expensive shirt. 

  
Oblivious to John’s concerns, Sherlock took his hands and pressed them against his shirt. He obviously didn’t care about staining the fabric. The posh ones never did.

  
“How’d you know?” John asked, enjoying the feel of hard muscle under his hands.

  
Sherlock hummed and slid his hands around John’s waist. “The way the frosting is smeared right here,” one long finger dragged over his skin, “The direction of the smudge shows someone standing in front of you wiped it away.”

  
He brought his lips to John’s ear, “Someone who. Was. Not. Me.”

  
John swallowed, Sherlock had pitched his voice the way he knew went right to John’s cock.   
  


“Well I-

Then John was being kissed.    
  


Hard.

  
He hummed happily against Sherlock’s mouth, and gasped as two large hands gripped his arse and squeezed. He made to wrap his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders, then checked his movement.

  
“What’s the matter?” Sherlock mumbled, his lips dragging along John’s jaw.

  
“My hands, they’re-

  
Sherlock pulled back and caught John’s hands in his own.

  
“Mmmmm,” shooting John a wicked look, he bought one hand to his lips gently sucked John’s fingertip into his mouth.   
  


John groaned as Sherlock’s tongue dragged along his pointer finger, curling around the tip and cleaning every bit of frosting off.   
  


“People need to learn,” Sherlock said, moving onto the next finger, “that you-   
  


He swallowed John’s ring finger in one go, lapping at it gently.   
  


-are spoken for.”   
  


Sherlock reached for his other hand, but John couldn’t wait. He cupped Sherlock’s jaw and brought him in for a deep kiss. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and cupped John’s hips in his hands, walking them backwards until John’s back bumped into the counter. 

  
John’s hands slid into Sherlock’s hair, tugging to make the man moan. Sherlock nipped at John’s lip as his hands slid down John’s body, pinching his nipples through the soft fabric of his shirt, before reaching for his belt buckle.   


Quicker than John thought possible his jeans and pants were shoved down his thighs and Sherlock’s hand was on his cock.    


“Oh Christ,” John hissed.   


The pressure was lovely, but Sherlock’s hand was dry on his cock, making John wince.   


“Oh how stupid of me,” Sherlock murmured in his ear, “We need lube.”   


“You’re not going to the bedroom,” John said, pulling Sherlock back into a kiss. Stopping now was out of the question.

Sherlock hummed, looking down at John with glittering eyes. 

“Give me your hand, the dirty one.”

John’s brow furrowed, but he complied too keyed up to question anything. 

Sherlock smiled at him, and swabbed the frosting off John’s fingers onto his own, paler digits. Licking his lips, Sherlock locked eyes with John as his frosting slick fingers slid over John’s cock.

John moaned, the frosting was sticky, but a quick lick to Sherlock’s hand made the texture just right. Sherlock locked eyes with him as he slowly stroked John’s cock, twisting at the head just the way John liked. 

“Mm that’s lovely, John,” Sherlock purred, his lips brushing John’s ear, “Absolutely lovely.”

Sherlock nipped at John’s earlobe, then placed a wet kiss against the delicate skin behind John’s ear.

John moaned and clung to Sherlock’s shoulders. Behind his ears was one of his sweet spots, and Sherlock knew it. He took advantage of it whenever he could, much to John’s delight. 

“I bet he wished he could see you like this,” Sherlock said, the hand on John’s cock speeding up, making John lose whatever little of train of thought he had. 

“W-who?”

Sherlock chuckled, tracing the shell of John’s ear with the tip of his tongue and gently pinching the lobe between his teeth.

“The client,” Sherlock whispered, biting at the skin behind John’s ear.

“I-

Sherlock’s began kissing his way slowly down John’s neck. Each kiss edged with teeth.

“As if h-he had any-  _ oh _ \- any chance,” John managed to get out, gasping as Sherlock dragged his thumb over his slit. 

“Of course he didn’t,” Sherlock said, his thumb circling the head, “you’re mine after all. Aren’t you John?”

John nodded helplessly, burying his face in Sherlock’s chest as the the other man began speeding up his strokes.

“Say it for me John, you know how I love to hear it.”

Sherlock’s voice was practically subsonic and John’s knees shook as he felt a familiar tightening in his abdomen. 

“I’m y-yours Sherlock,” John gasped out, his words muffled against Sherlock’s chest.

Sherlock’s fingers curled in John’s hair and tugged his head back, locking eyes with him. 

“All mine?”

“A-all yours!” 

Sherlock pulled him into a ferocious kiss, his hand hard against the back of John’s head, while the other worked his cock perfectly. 

John kissed back, his knees shuddering as the strings of pleasure in his abdomen pulled and tightened. Sherlock’s scent was all around him, and he was trapped between the counter and the detective’s tall, broad body. 

He whined against Sherlock’s lips as his thigh muscles went taught, and then he was coming hard into Sherlock’s hand. The pleasure exploded through him, radiating out through his entire body, until John felt it from his toes all the way to the fingers buried in Sherlock’s shirt. 

His knees shook and Sherlock’s arms wound around his waist, holding him close. John tipped his head back, accepting the gentle little pecks of Sherlock’s lips as the aftershocks zingged through him. 

“That was-

“Mmm,” Sherlock hummed, giving him another kiss.

“I think you got come on my jumper.”

“Mmm."

Sherlock tugged his jeans back into place, unbuttoned and loose around his hips. They stood quietly for a moment, until John felt like his feet were touching the ground again.

“I think it’s your turn.”

“Mmm _ hum _ ” Sherlock hummed, his eyes gleaming.

John smiled wickedly back, turning them around until Sherlock was pressed against the counter in his place. Winking at him, John slowly slid to his knees, dragging his body along Sherlock’s all the way down. 

Sherlock’s gaze was dark as John slowly undid the snap and zipper of Sherlock’s trousers. No belt was needed for his bespoke wearing posh boy. 

John tugged Sherlock’s trousers and pants down his thighs, squeezing the hard muscle under all that fine, pale skin. Keeping their eyes locked he slowly dragged his tongue along the inside of Sherlock’s thigh, nipping him in places where the skin was most sensitive. 

Sherlock hissed, his head tipping back as John kissed his way over to the detective’s hard cock. He groaned behind his teeth as John licked over the slit and dragged his tongue teasingly around the head. 

Smirking to himself, John took a deep breath through his nose, and swallowed Sherlock to the base all in one go. It was something he didn’t do very often; mainly because it wasn’t exactly easy, and it had a tendency to...cut things short. But today John was in the mood, and Sherlock’s reaction didn’t disappoint. 

The detective let out a cry, he’s knees wobbling and his entire body bowing forward in ecstasy. John slid his hands to Sherlock’s hips, pinning him against the counter as he worked his tongue along the underside of his cock.

“God John! Just keep-

John pulled off and mouthed at Sherlock’s balls, giving each a quick teasing suck before swallowing his cock again. The look on Sherlock’s face was priceless. His eyes were wide and slightly stunned, his cheeks pink and lips wet and parted. 

It made John want to see him come. Right. Now. 

He took Sherlock as deep as his could, almost gagging, but too keyed up to care. Releasing one bony hip from his grasp he fondled the detective’s balls, rolling them in his hand.

Sherlock was blabbing above him, his chest heaving. John pulled off, giving him a long, lush lick from base to tip, making Sherlock shudder hard. Knowing his was close John took him back in and began bobbing his head. Sherlock’s hands tightened in his hair, his noises becoming frantic. 

“John! John I-I’m going-

His words were cut off as John swallowed around him. Then Sherlock was coming hard, his hands shaking as he let out one of the most erotic sounds John had ever heard.

John pulled back, and dragged the back of his hand over his lips. Sherlock was panting hard above him, his eyes soft. John smiled at him, coughing a little. That particular move always left this throat a bit sore.

In an instant Sherlock had dropped to his knees before him and was pulling him into a deep kiss. It was sweet, soft, a touch filthy and absolutely perfect. 

“You taste like me,” Sherlock said, smiling. 

John smiled back and nuzzled against Sherlock’s cheek, something he only did after sex….well most of the time, but anyone who saw Sherlock all sweetly rumpled like this wouldn’t be able to resist.

“What were you frosting?” Sherlock asked after a moment, looking at the traces of frosting on his fingers with bemusement. 

“Oh, um- Christmas cookies,” John said, suddenly feeling a touch shy.

“Christmas cookies?”

“Yeah, I called your mum and got her recipe.”

Sherlock stared at him.

“I remember you mentioned how long it’s been since you had them, so I thought I’d make them for you.”

Sherlock blinked.

“The frosting job isn’t the best, but they taste alright,” John said, feeling oddly awkward.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s arms were coiling around his waist and John was pulled into a warm hug. John smiled against Sherlock’s neck and hugged him back, the awkwardness dissolving. They stayed like that for a moment, just breathing each other in. 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock said, his eyes soft. 

John grinned back. “Don’t thank me until you taste them,” he said with a wink.

 

***

 

Later that night every single cookie was gone, and a crumb covered John Watson new just how much his Sherlock had loved each and every one.


End file.
